Worry is a seed lodged in a tooth, a splinter that won’t budge, a thumb grazing a sizzling pan. Worry is a wishbone, already cracked. Worry is a candle burning too close to a curtain, a heavy blanket on a warm night. Worry is an ice cold pinch in the belly. Worry is a spider spinning a broken web, an ant with a burden too heavy, marching blindly into a clogged sink. Worry is a wet plaster on a fresh blister. Worry is a smirking nightmare, sitting on the chest, pinning you down. Worry is falling into a shadow, not being able to wake. Worry moves under the skin, serpentine, bloodless. Worry has teeth. Worry is always hungry.